


Escape from Kinloch Hold

by CannibalKats



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, Nevaeh Mahariel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:45:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3888100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because there are some issues with the Dalish Mage origin mod and the broken circle quest I thought it would be interesting if my Mahariel had actually been in the circle briefly, the events of the Surana/Amell origin happening earlier in her life.</p>
<p>Cullen is being mentored before becoming a templar and befriends Nevaeh shortly after her Harrowing, he helps her escape the circle when Jowen reveals himself as a bloodmage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape from Kinloch Hold

He’d only been in the circle a week, she noticed him the morning after her Harrowing, watching her walk to the hall comforting the older boy despite the pain in her head. He’d come out of Gregoir’s office in the company of three other not quite Templar’s, if hadn’t been for one of them being a girl she wouldn’t have even noticed the light haired boy watching her.

“Baby Templars,” Jowen grunted. “I bet they’re wonder which one of them will get to make me tranquil.”

“They’re not mages, it’ll be one of the adults that gets that pleasure.”

Jowen was protesting but she didn’t have the energy to keep up her sympathetic charade. Add that to the list of reasons most of the apprentice mages avoided her. She tried to focus on her friend, his concerns were legitimate, they’d seen at least five mages in the last week get harrowed, all of them brought to Kinloch more than a year after Jowen, six now that she’d been put through it.

She was squinting in the bright light of the hall, and her stomach lurched at the thought of porridge, she ignored the Tranquil woman with the steaming bowls and reached for an apple. It was cool and tart, it didn’t help the queasy feeling in her guts but it didn’t make it worse.

“Lyrium hangover.” Senior Enchanter Wynne whispered and tucked a bundle of elfroot in her pocket. “Chew them, it will help.”

“What?” Jowen grunted. “What did she say.”

“She said I shouldn’t be seen with a blood mage and asked me to sit with the grown ups.”

“Maker Nev.”

“Shut up, she just gave me some elfroot for my headache.”

“Is that girl code?”

Nevaeh was short, even for an elf, and soft, she was not an imposing person and Jowen towered over her. It didn’t stop her from knocking him on his ass. She turned sharply and sat alone, Jowen brushed himself off and sulked off to sit with the other apprentices.

The Templar cadets cackled at the table across from her, the solitary girl giving her an approving nod, while the boys pointed and chuckled in Jowen’s direction, except for the hazel eyed boy from the hall. His head was turned towards the apprentice table but he was still watching her out of the corner of his eye.

She finished her apple, eating even the core and pocketing the seeds. If she was lucky she would get put in Senior Enchanter Inez’s service soon and she’d be able to plant them outside.  Her fingers brushed the bundle from Wynne and she popped a couple bitter leaves in her mouth. Another round of raucous laughter drew her attention. Some in joke she assumed, Hazel eyes darting away when she noticed them on her again.

Weeks passed with other apprentices being Harrowed and Jowen growing increasingly agitated. She’d broached the subject with some of the Senior Enchanters but no one could give her any information to comfort him. She worried for her friend, he did well at theory but he was not skilled at application. Still he wasn’t weak, she’d seen apprentices made tranquil and found that in the 3 years she’d been in the circle she could usually pick out who would be considered dangerous.

The boy with the hazel eyes continued to watch her when he thought she wasn’t looking but he’d gotten up the courage to speak with her. He even looked out for her when her temper got the better of her. If she was lucky his mentor would be tasked with guarding over her own and he’d share pilfered sweets with her while they sat in forced boredom observing the _alchemical process_.

His name was Cullen, and the more withdrawn Jowen got the more she found herself hoping to run into him. He would trade stories about his home, the great mage Wilhem who’d earned his freedom in the war against Orlais, or his deactivated Golem in the center of the town square. She reciprocated with what she remembered of her clan, stories of Fenherel’s mischief, and half remembered tales of the creators. Sometimes she’d make up a fantastical tale about her parents, she knew very little about them aside from them both being dead. She felt guilty about the lies but the stories made her feel better about her lot in life.

She kept him at a distance, their interactions always centered on jokes and stories, not even the tall tales she made up about her parents revealed too much about herself. He was going to be a Templar after all, and even if it was _just following orders_ he too would be dragging children from their homes and their families.

When Jowen pulled her into the Chantry and begged her to help him escape she was hurt. Had Cullen known about the order? It was unlikely but still she blamed him a bit and agreed to help her friend and the sister. She was well liked among the Senior enchanters, despite her temper she was a good student and a skilled mage, it was easy for her gather the materials they needed without raising any questions.

When they were caught she was as shocked as everyone else that the rumours about Jowen had been true. She screamed profanities and impotently tried to heal the dead Templars while the sister shrieked. Jowen had destroyed her Phylactory with his own even though she’d protested, and despite her help in subduing her friend and attempts to shield and heal the templars involved she was branded a blood mage and an accomplice and hauled to the dungeons to wait for tranquility.

“You fucking idiot!” She shrieked at him through the darkness. She knew he could hear her, she could hear him wailing, calling to the maker for forgiveness, begging for mercy from Andraste and the maker. “Fuck your Maker and his Bitch Bride,” she called back in a rage. “Fuck them all, you did this to yourself, if I’m made Tranquil I hope they leave you to rot down here.”

Another voice sobbed in the darkness. It didn’t pray, or ask forgiveness, the mystery boy only cried, sometimes he called out names she didn’t recognise. She was full of rage and the only thing that kept her from accepting the tempting offers of the demons in her mind was the stubborn sense of pride that if she was made Tranquil they would still be wrong.

She thought the light was a wisp at first. They hadn’t fed her yet, and the pain in her stomach was not so bad, it couldn’t be more than a day she’d been down here. Still her throat was raw and her voice was hoarse from screaming. Sometimes in the tower the wisps had brought her snacks, perhaps they’d done the same down here, there had to be guards somewhere.

The light hovered outside her cell and she heard the lock click. Wisps didn’t use keys. She crouched low, pressed against the back of her cell, ready to pounce. They could take her emotions, but she wouldn’t make it easy.

Cullen’s face hovered over hers, whispering her name and indicating her to shush.

“Turn it off,” she whispered hoarse, almost too quiet to be heard. “The light, put it out, I can see in the dark but not with that light.”

He nodded and pocketed the glowing stone. He helped her up and made sure she could stand. “They’re taking your friend tomorrow and the Knight Commander has all but decided your fate. Wynne and Irving are fighting for you but it’s not going to do any good. The other Templars, they want blood. Even if Gregoir decides to listen I don’t think you’ll be safe here.”

She led the way, out of the dungeon and up into storage. Cullen had something that kept the sentinels from attacking and even the talking statue kept quiet. Cullen led the way once they made it to the main floor. Tucking her away behind him into closets and behind statues when the patrols came by, they’d ruffle his curls and gently chastise him for being out of the barracks so late.

She fought back anger, a mage with his weak excuses would have been beaten and punished but they barely raised their voices. She was furious by the time he ushered her out a side door into the garden and down the tiny trail in the rocks to the water.

“My mentor, Hadley, he meets smugglers down here sometimes, they bring letters to some of the templars, care packages from home, and other _things,_ I, uh, imagine.”

“What are we doing?”

“We went to the other side to meet the replacement Templars from Denerim this morning, and a few new apprentices. I heard some traders talking about Dalish to the west. While they took a meal in the inn I hid some food and a water skin my cloak. There are some ruins on the hill behind the inn, you’ll find them in the tall grass there.”

“Cullen, I can’t swim.” She was scared, if they were caught and the templars were as angry as he said she wouldn’t make it to being tranquil. She hated Jowen.

“I paid some kids to leave an old boat here. It’s not the best thing, it was washed up and abandoned but it should do the trick.” He pushed a pile of brush to the side exposing a shabby old dory and cursed. “Little blighters didn’t leave an ore.”

Sifting through the brush she found a sturdy branch and held it up triumphant. “This will work right?”

“Listen I have to get back, too many people saw me, they won’t notice you’re gone until morning. They shouldn’t connect us, but they’re going to notice me missing soon.”

“Creators bless you, Cullen. You’ve done more than anyone else would have.”

“You fought him,” he said. “You tried to help the ones that died. It’s not right for you get punished for it.”

She hugged him. It was out of character but freedom was such a relief she owed him something and a hug was all she could offer.   He placed a chaste kiss on her temple and turned to make his way up the steep path back to the tower.

She shoved off and steered towards the light of the inn, sitting low in the leaky dory. Not taking her eyes away from freedom.


End file.
